Chapter 41 #2
“Use your words, baby,” he commanded. “Please, what?”
“You know what I want!”
He chuckled, the sound purring against my skin. “I like hearing you say it. I like to hear my woman beg before she screams.”
“Enough with the slow burn,” I demanded. “Just fuck me already! Fuck me like I’m your whore! There, I said it.”
In bed, dignity was old clothes.
“Are you my whore, then, little scorpion?”
“Just as you’re mine, snowflake.”
He let out a low, sensual laugh. “Mm, I’ll have to serve you properly, mistress.”
The thick head of his cock brushed against my entrance. I gasped; he groaned at the delicious contact. We’d done this many times, yet every time felt like the first—that overwhelming rush of rightness, of coming home, of searing want. I could never get enough of this. Neither could he.
He pushed in slowly, stretching me inch by exquisite inch. That first, deep thrust always stole my breath, the overwhelming sensation of anticipation, heat, heaviness, and completion.
“I never thought I could have this,” I whispered, fighting the sting behind my eyes. “This day. With you. A happy ending. I always thought I was living on borrowed time.”
“You never need to worry about that again, little scorpion.” He pressed his forehead to mine, his breath ghosting across my lips.
“You and I are forever. Even after the stars fade, you’ll still be mine.
You’re more than my heart; you’re everything to me.
And I’m glad you crashed into my life and turned it all upside down.
I love you with every broken piece of me. ”
“But you aren’t broken,” I insisted. “Not one bit. Damaged men might be hot in dark romance novels, but that’s a fantasy. They’re no good in real life.” I traced the line of his jaw, a testament to his strength, not his damage.
He chuckled, a low, warm, and sensual sound that made me shiver with need. “And when did you become such an expert on men, baby?”
With a powerful thrust, he drove home. We both went still, him fully seated inside me, my molten core pulling him even deeper. This was one of those perfect moments—an amazing connection worth every hell we’d survived to reach.
He began to move, slowly at first, relishing me as if we had all the time in the world and no war left to fight. I sank my fingernails into his shoulders, arching into the exquisite stretch as the pressure began to build deep within.
Slowly, I moved with him in our primal dance, my pussy clenching around his silky, steel-hard length. A rough groan tore from his throat as I squeezed him tighter.
“Look at me, baby,” he ordered, his voice thick, when my eyes fluttered closed. “Let me see how good I make you feel.”
“You know it’s good,” I gasped, but I obeyed, opening my eyes to let him see the fire burning for him. I let him see how thoroughly he wrecked me, how every slow, deliberate drag of his cock rewired my nervous system, proving I was his, completely and irrevocably.
“That’s my girl,” he growled in dark satisfaction, one hand sliding between us to circle my clit.
The dual stimulation was fucking insane—the friction, the fullness, the pleasure short-circuiting my thoughts.
My breath hitched, my legs jerked, and my entire body stiffened as a wave of sensation crested.
“Shit, Killian!” I breathed out, my thoughts scattering.
“What, baby?” His voice was a lazy, satisfied drawl.
“The pasta!” I cried, my domestic concerns slicing through the haze of pleasure. “You don’t want to overcook it, believe me!”
“I believe you,” he said, a chuckle rumbling through his chest.
“You do know what you’re doing, right?” Uncertainty bled into my voice.
“I want to host a cooking show in Mist of Cinder when the heirs return. You need to join the other heirs, or kings, in a cooking contest. Consider this your practice. I’d never live it down if you didn’t bring home the championship cup.
I especially don’t want Rowan to win, or Sy will never stop gloating. ”
“When will this competition between you and Sy end?”
I glared at him, and he answered with a deep, deliberate thrust that made me gasp.
“Don’t worry,” he conceded, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I never lose.”
In one fluid motion, he lifted me from the counter, our bodies still joined, and carried me toward the stove. My legs clamped around his waist, my breasts pressing against the solid wall of his chest.
“You sure you can handle both me and cooking?” I asked, even as I tightened my hold, having no intention of letting go.
“I can multitask,” he bragged, punctuating his claim with another sharp upward thrust that stole my breath.
A gasp of pleasure was my only reply.
He turned to stir the pasta with one hand, the other gripping my ass to hold me steady as he moved inside me with deep strokes. Cooking while fucking was the best practice, and all I could manage was broken moans. Each thrust sent ecstasy radiating through me as I bounced on his cock.
The pasta churned in the boiling pot as our lust reached its crescendo. Steam fogged the air around us, the heat from the stove mingling with the sweat-slicked heat of our bodies. He tested a strand of pasta, declared it done with a grunt, and killed the burners.
Then he carried me back to the island. My legs fell open wider as he slid between them, all restraint gone now that the pasta was safe.
He drove into me, harder and faster, and I met every punishing thrust with equal ferocity. The sound of our skin slapping together filled the kitchen, a wet, obscene rhythm underscored by our ragged gasps and moans.
The room smelled of sex and salt, our scents mingling into something primal and intoxicating.
Just then, my tablet vibrated on the counter. I turned to glance at the screen and immediately regretted it.
Sy had sent a video through Spinchat. She had no qualms about showing me her sex clips, though I’d seen more than enough when she took over our body for her sex feedings, with me sitting in a corner, trying not to pay attention to her kinky episodes.
This time, it wasn’t the sex that caught my eye, though I certainly didn’t approve of Rowan pouring expensive wine all over Sy before licking it off.
What a bloody waste! When they returned to the realm, I’d have a strong word with both of them.
They should donate that money to the community, especially the disadvantaged ones, instead of living such a shameless, extravagant lifestyle.
No, it was the cookie jar on her nightstand that drew my attention.
“Barbie,” Sy panted in the video, pausing mid-thrust to address the camera. “I’m dropping a gold coin into this jar every time I have an orgasm. By the end of the year, you can count them all!”
The nerve!
Was that how she’d been amassing gold?
I shoved the screen toward Killian. “The game is on! We are not losing to her and Rowan.”
“This isn’t a competition, little scorpion,” he laughed, but his eyes glinted with a familiar, dark challenge.
Then he thrust deeper into me, brutal and delicious, and I was home.
“It is now,” I breathed, my words dissolving into a moan.
“Then we’d better make this count.” His fingers found my clit again, circling with wicked purpose while he pounded into me.
His cock was a silken steel rod, filling and stretching me with every vehement thrust. The dual stimulation was overwhelming—a powerful, delicious torture.
The pressure built relentlessly, pulling louder and louder moans from my throat.
This was all-consuming. This was everything.
He drove into me harder, faster, each thrust more brutal than the last. I clung to him, my breasts bouncing, my nails raking down the corded muscles of his back as pleasure coiled into a taut, screaming knot.
His mouth crashed down on mine, swallowing my cries as he claimed me with a possessive intensity that shattered my control.
Every nerve ending sparked—his cock stretching me, his fingers rubbing my clit, his teeth on my lip, his hand fisted in my hair.
And then his shadow and starlight caressed me everywhere, a magical onslaught so overwhelming and amazing I couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Come for me,” he commanded against my mouth. “Come on my cock like a good girl.”
I wasn’t a good girl and had no desire to be one.
But I exploded for him all the same, and my power unleashed with my climax.
I came so hard my inner walls vibrated violently, milking his shaft with such force he let out a string of raw, sexy curses. The unbridled power that ripped through me would have killed a lesser male, but my demigod dragon mate matched me, my equal in every way.
“Now you, mate!” I demanded.
He roared his release, his lightning waltzing over my skin as he emptied himself deep inside me. Our powers merged and danced—his starlight to my dark flame, his fire to my ice.
We rode the crashing wave of our climax, and before the last tremor had faded, he pulled out. Before I could protest, he lifted me from the island, flipped me around, bent me over the counter, and drove into me from behind. His large, powerful hand cupped my breast, claiming me all over again.
My, my. This was better than any fantasy. This life with Killian still seemed fucking unreal. I slammed my ass back into him, meeting his every plunge.
“Harder, snowflake! Harder!” I cried.
“How’s this for snowflake, love?” He pounded into me so brutally I saw stars.
Just then, a massive cookie jar—significantly bigger than Sy’s—materialized beside us. A shimmering trail of magic from all six houses swirled around it, followed by the wild magic of Underhill, escorted by two shadow beasts that phased straight through the wards.
“What the fuck?” Killian growled.
Keep fucking, Underhill encouraged, its voice resonating through multiple dimensions. The Prophesized One—twins—have been conceived as of this moment. We have come to honor them. Don’t we all love babies?
Killian stared at me, a meteor shower of emotions burning in his storm-blue eyes, his cock still buried deep within me.
Let’s party! the six house magics chimed in cheerful unison.
A handful of glittering gold coins materialized, tumbling through the air. Two landed inside the jar with a clear, musical clink-clink.
Oh, shit.
– The end –
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